


Girl Talk and Gifts

by helsinkibaby



Series: Dark Horses [14]
Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, Het, Love Triangles, Romance, trigger warning: mentions of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-30
Updated: 2002-08-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol rolled her eyes. "I've got a great boyfriend who's in Helsinki on my birthday," she pointed out. "Which isn't much good to me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl Talk and Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> This story comes from Sam telling me about a present that he bought for Carol…I had to use it, but didn't have a place to until I saw this episode!

  
It was a small living room, but it rang with raucous laughter as the five women seated around the coffee table indulged in one of their all-too-rare nights off. "This is truly sad," Bonnie declared, pouring herself another glass of wine. "Look at us. We're five good looking, single women-"

"Carol's not single," Margaret objected from across the room.

"Hey!" Carol protested, holding up her left hand. "Do you see a ring on this finger?"

Margaret waved her hand dismissively. "Matter of time," she pronounced, as the other three nodded and Carol's cheeks flushed red.

"As I was saying-" Bonnie continued pointedly. "We're five good looking women and the best thing we can come up with to do on a Saturday night is sit around Carol's living room, with wine and pizza."

"Well, I'm having a good time." Ginger took another sip of her wine, the tone of her voice declaring that she was only short of sticking her tongue out at Bonnie. "I haven't done this since college."

"I never did this in college," Donna informed them. "Well, maybe at the start, but then I started dating Doctor Freeride and the rest is history."

"Besides," Margaret continued. "Who wants to go out somewhere when we all have to go in to work tomorrow? Can you imagine having Leo or Toby bellowing your name when you've got a hangover?" She winced, as if in memory, and Ginger and Bonnie followed suit. "It's not fun."

"There are advantages to Josh being out of the country," Donna allowed.

"And I've got a day off," Carol reminded them, stretching her arms over her head, a smile on her face.

"Shut up," was Bonnie's only response.

"Been hanging around Toby too long there Bonnie?" Carol asked, laughing again at Bonnie's glare.

"Bonnie's got a point," Margaret told her. "You've got the day off and the great boyfriend, that's hardly fair."

Carol rolled her eyes. "I've got a great boyfriend who's in Helsinki on my birthday," she pointed out. "Which isn't much good to me."

The other assistants made several noises, all of which went to indicate how little sympathy they had for her, not that she expected anything else. Truth be told, she'd long since come to terms with the fact that Sam would be away on her birthday; had come to terms with it the same night that he'd come to her desk with the first draft of the Helsinki itinerary in his hand, pointing out that they were leaving on the Friday, and coming back on the Sunday. It had only taken a second for her to realise that the Saturday that he'd be gone was her birthday but he'd looked so upset, so crestfallen that she'd put her own disappointment aside, telling him that it was all right, that he could make it up to her later. She'd told him that with a salacious tone to her voice, winking at him for good measure, and he'd grinned at her, promising that he would.

There had been hope earlier in the week when it looked as if the Helsinki summit was to be cancelled, but then it had all been put back on again. He'd taken her out to dinner on Thursday night, a quiet romantic evening, just the two of them before they'd come back home. Friday morning, they'd woken early and had lingered in bed before they'd forced themselves to rise and get ready for work. He'd taken her out to lunch on Friday afternoon, ignoring the teasing from the other staffers in the West Wing, and a half-hour before he'd had to leave for the car, he'd dropped a note on her desk, telling her to meet him down in one of the basement rooms. They'd hadn't had a lot of time, but they'd made the most of what they had, and her cheeks burned now with the memory.

"We feel your pain Carol," Donna told her, rolling her eyes. "It must be tough to be you."

"Yeah," Ginger chimed in. "Imagine, having a guy who worships you, who'd do anything for you…"

"Who appeared in Vanity Fair," Margaret concluded, reaching out to the coffee table and pulling the magazine in question from the pile.

Carol placed her wineglass back on the coffee table, burying her head in her hands. "Are we going to do this again?" she groaned, knowing from experience what was coming up.

"Oh, I really do think so." Even as she spoke, Margaret was finding the appropriate page in the magazine.

"Yeah," Bonnie agreed. "Sam's not getting off lightly either."

Carol lifted her eyebrows. "Is that your way of confessing that it was you who enlarged the photograph and put it up in the White House gym?"

"Girl, I'm innocent," Bonnie laughed, and Ginger held up her hands too.

"It was Jolene, from the President's Council on Physical Fitness," Margaret confided. "She wanted to know all about Sam, but I warned her off."

"Read it out nice and loud Margaret," Donna ordered, as Carol raised her wineglass in thanks.

"Must we? It's my birthday guys…"

"OK then. Just the good bits."

Carol shook her head, giving up any efforts to silence her friends as they hooted with laughter over the article. She'd more or less committed it to memory, having seen an advance copy that had been faxed through to CJ for approval, but it was new to the rest of the staff, and they were having plenty of fun with it. Carol grinned at some of the comments, but she didn't begin to blush until they reached the paragraph that concerned her.

"With the hours they work at the White House, personal relationships have been known to suffer, and Seaborn readily admits that a previous engagement didn't survive the trials of the campaign," Margaret read. "However, ask him about his private life now, and a smile crosses his face. For the last number of months, he's been dating a fellow White House staffer, a stunning brunette who works as an aide to the Press Secretary." She dropped the magazine, lifting both eyebrows and grinning at Carol.

Carol, aware that that's how they were all looking at her, parried with, "That's really bad writing you know."

"Toby agrees," Ginger piped up, throwing Carol a sympathetic look.

"C'mon though," Donna objected. "Stunning brunette? In Vanity Fair? That's got to be nice to read about yourself."

Carol took a sip of her wine, remembering her reaction when she'd read that. She'd been nervous about how CJ would react to it, how everyone would react to it; after all, it was the first public acknowledgement of her relationship with Sam, and the danger that some people might object to a White House Senior Staffer and one of the assistants wasn't lost on her. But they'd agreed to leave it in there, bad writing and all, the last over Toby's strong objections, and there had been no backlash about it, save for the almost obligatory teasing.

The only person that hadn't teased her about it was Sam, although she'd joked about it with him, asking him the first night she saw it who the "stunning brunette" he'd been cheating on her with was. She'd meant it as a joke, a self-deprecating remark, but he'd just shaken his head, reaching out as they sat side by side on the couch, taking her hands in his and pushing the sleeves up from her knuckles. She'd looked down, embarrassed once again by her nervous habit, but he hadn't said anything, just tilted her head back up, holding it in place as he kissed her gently. "In case you've missed it," he whispered. "You are a brunette. And you are stunning. And I can't believe you don't know that."

She'd tried to smile, but hadn't got very far. "I don't do compliments, remember?" she'd asked him, wondering if he remembered that she'd told him that the very night that they'd begun this.

"Well," he'd whispered, leaning down to kiss her again. "You should." And she'd shivered when she'd heard those words, because they were the same ones that he'd used that night, which proved that he did remember. Then she shivered again because he showed her just how stunning he thought she was.

She shivered now in memory, wishing that he was there and not in Helsinki.

"I'm just glad that nobody picked up on it," she said honestly, and Bonnie snorted in amusement.

"Picked up on it? Carol, you two have done everything but announce it on a billboard."

Carol frowned. "We haven't made that big a deal out of it…."

"You don't have to," Ginger told her.

"Yeah. Every time you two are around each other, you can see it," Donna agreed.

Carol blushed again, shaking her head. "We've only been together for four months," she reminded them, not sure who she was trying to convince. "It's a little early for you to be buying hats."

The other four looked at one another, and then back to her, simultaneously shaking their heads. Carol laughed, taking another sip of her wine, and that's when Donna took pity on her, speaking up. "Speaking of buying things…" She stood up, going over to the coat-stand, taking a carrier bag from behind it. "What's a birthday without presents?"

While Carol was protesting that they hadn't had to get her anything, Margaret was leading a chorus of "Happy Birthday". "This one's from me and Ginger," Bonnie told Carol, handing her a card. When she opened it, Carol found a gift voucher for Victoria's Secret, and raised her eyebrows at the two other women. "We thought Sam might enjoy it too," Bonnie added, a twinkle in her eyes.

Donna had the grace to look embarrassed as she presented a brightly gift-wrapped box to Carol. "Margaret and I had the same idea," she admitted. "Except we picked our own." When Carol opened the box, almost afraid to, she found a green silk night-gown and matching wrap.

"Thank you," she said, grinning at them. "I'm sure Sam will thank you too."

"What did Sam get you?" Ginger asked.

Carol shrugged. "I don't know. He refused to give me my present until he gets back from Helsinki."

"Not exactly." Margaret's words had them all looking at her in surprise. "I should clarify. He'll give you part of your present when he gets back tomorrow night. But he gave some of it to me." She reached into the bag, pulling out another parcel, wincing as she did so. "It's heavy, whatever it is," she muttered.

Carol bit her lip, looking down at the rectangular shape in front of her, the card stuck on top bearing her name in Sam's neat script. "Come on Carol," Ginger urged. "Don't keep us in suspense!"

"He said it's safe to open in company," Margaret supplied helpfully, in response to Carol's inquiring glance.

Taking a deep breath, Carol slid a nail underneath the envelope, lifting it from the wrapping. She slid the card from the envelope, reading it silently first, her eyes filling with tears. Looking up, she saw her friends leaning forward in their seats, eager for details, and she didn't wait for them to ask. "Carol," she read. "I couldn't let your birthday pass without you having some sort of present from me, so I'm asking Margaret to play messenger. I wish I could be with you, but you know I'll be thinking of you, counting the hours until I get home. Have a wonderful day, all my love, Sam." She had to swallow hard when she was finished, and when she chanced a look up at the others, she realised that she wasn't the only one affected.

"Why can't we find men like that?" Bonnie wondered.

"You've got to open it now," Ginger declared.

Putting the note aside carefully, Carol, never one to be patient with presents, ripped the wrapping paper, only to be confronted with a plain brown cardboard box, sealed with packing tape. "Allow me," Margaret insisted, taking one of the cleaner knives they'd used to help slice the pizzas, and sliding it across the tape, releasing the flaps in one smooth movement. Carol pushed them open and looked down into the box, her face registering surprise as she saw what was in there.

"What is it?" Donna wondered, as with all the others, drawing closer to try to get a look in.

Carol reached into the box, pulling out another box. Margaret cleared a space on the table and Carol put it down, staring at it in shock. It was a jewellery box, two tiered, the polished wood surface gleaming as they looked at it. That wasn't what had them staring at it in surprise though. That was because of the detail engraved on the surface of the lid; a perfect etching of the White House.

"It's beautiful," Margaret breathed, speaking in a hushed tone.

"And it plays music," Ginger noted, reaching out to the back of the box, twisting the shank that protruded. "It's wound up too."

Slowly Carol reached out and undid the clasp on the box, lifting the lid carefully. When she did, sure enough, music floated from the box, filling the room. "I know that song," Bonnie declared after the first couple of bars, frowning as she tried to remember where from.

"Me too," Donna agreed, going so far as to hum along with it.

Carol had known what it was from the first couple of notes, and when it got near to the end of the tune, she managed to find her voice for long enough to tell them. "It's Oh Carol," she told them, and their faces cleared in nods and smiles of recognition.

"Darling there will never be another," Bonnie sang along with the second repetition of the tune.

"For I love you so," Donna joined in, and then Ginger and Margaret did likewise. The only silent one was Carol, who couldn't have sung even if she wanted to.

"Don't ever leave me, say you'll never go. I will always want you for my sweetheart, no matter what you do. Oh Carol, I'm so in love with you."

They were all smiling once they finished their impromptu sing along, leaving Carol to reach out and close down the lid. She was trying to wipe her eyes and get her emotions under control when Margaret broke the silence. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm buying a hat."

>*<*>*<

She was lying on the bed, the box resting on Sam's side, running her finger over the engraved lines of the White House when the phone rang. Rolling over to grab the receiver, she cast a quick eye to the clock, observing that it was just past midnight. The girls had been reluctant to leave, wanting the party to continue longer, but they were all aware that they had to work the next day, and that if they stayed any longer, consumed any more wine, that the coffee machine was going to be getting more than its usual workout. Besides, Carol had told them, Sam had promised her that he'd call her around midnight, having already called her earlier on that morning to wish her happy birthday. She'd taken some more good-natured teasing about it, but she hadn't really minded.

"Hello?" She knew that it was going to be Sam, but on the off-chance that it wasn't, she exercised caution. Josh still hadn't quite lived down the morning that he thought he was answering the phone to Amy when it had been Leo on the other end.

"Hey," came the answer in the voice she was expecting, low and velvet smooth, and she could just imagine the smile on his face. "It's me."

"I thought it might be." She rolled onto her back, making herself comfortable. "Thank you for the present."

He chuckled lightly on the other end. "Oh, Margaret gave it to you?"

"Along with gifts from her and Donna and Ginger and Bonnie. They were all here for a little party."

"Did you enjoy yourselves?"

"Oh, we had a great time," she told him, rolling slightly so that she was on her side, facing the box again. "Your present kind of stole the show though," she told him quietly, reaching out a finger and tracing the edges.

"You like it?" There was a slight hint of insecurity around the question.

"I love it Sam. But you shouldn't have…it's too much."

"No. It's not." He was very quiet, but very firm, and even though she was happy, tears still came into her eyes.

"It must have cost you a fortune," she whispered.

"You're worth it." His voice was husky, a clear sign that he was emotional too, and she wished more than anything else that he was there with her.

"I miss you," she told him honestly.

"I miss you too," he replied. "But the summit is going well. Josh didn't cause any major diplomatic incidents at the dinner last night, and we'll be home this time tomorrow." In spite of his words, she heard his sigh.

"What time will you be home at?" She should know that; she'd read the schedule, but she knew well that the scheduled time and the actual time would probably bear little resemblance to one another.

"It'll be late," he told her.

"I'll wait up," she promised.

"Good. Do you have any plans for your day off?"

When she booked the day, she'd been planning on spending the day with him, doing things that ordinary couples did when they weren't concerning themselves with the state of the nation. "I'm not sure," she told him now, and there was a teasing note in her voice. "Bonnie and Ginger gave me a gift voucher for Victoria's Secret, so I think a shopping trip might be in order…"

She let her voice trail off suggestively, and he laughed. "I like that sound of that…" he murmured, but then he paused, and she could hear someone knocking on the door of his room. "That's probably CJ."

"You should go," she told him. "Do good today."

"Do I ever do anything else?" he quipped, and there was a pause before he spoke again. "I love you."

She smiled. "I love you too."

Hanging up the phone, she stared at it for a second before placing it back on the bedside table. Looking back at the box lying on the bed, she turned it around, turning the shank as far as it would go before turning it back around and opening the lid allowing the strains of Oh Carol to lull her to sleep.

>*<*>*<

Sam silently muttered every curse he knew, and quite a few that he was making up on the spur of the moment, as he walked up to Carol's front door, putting down his bags so that he could actually find the key. He'd only meant to stop in the office for a few minutes, just enough time to pick up mail and messages, maybe give Bonnie and Ginger their souvenirs if they were still around, then home to his woman, who he'd neglected on her birthday. However, the delivery of the mystery videotape had pretty much put paid to that notion. He'd brought it to CJ, who'd accompanied him to Josh's office, and the three of them had gone to Leo's office, which of course meant that he'd had the same conversation three different times, with only a widening cast of characters for variation. They'd floated the idea of having a meeting about it that night, but CJ had looked at her watch, as had Josh, and Sam had wondered if faking a yawn would be going too far when Leo told them that they'd been travelling all day and that they should head home.

He'd almost been ready to hug the man.

He settled for leaving as quickly as he could, because he'd much rather hug Carol; however, he was quite a bit later than he'd thought he'd be, and he knew that the chances of her still being up were slim. Thus he was as quiet as he could be when he opened the door, dropping his bags in the hall and hanging up his jacket. His bag was on his shoulder again as he made his way down the hall, noticing that the lights were still on in the living room, heading there first to see if she was still up.

His bag dropped unnoticed to the floor when he saw her. She'd obviously been waiting up for him, but hadn't quite made it. She was lying on her side on the couch, long legs stretched out across the cushions, long eyelashes dark against her cheeks, a small smile on her lips. Her shoes had long since been discarded, and he could just catch a slight glimpse of pale skin where her blouse had come away from the waistband of her jeans.

She looked beautiful.

Treading carefully, wanting to enjoy the sight for as long as possible, he closed the distance between them, sitting down carefully on the edge of one of the couch cushions, at the same time as reaching out a hand to touch her hair. "Hey there sleepyhead," he whispered when he saw her begin to stir, his hand not moving from her hair, the other one being used to aid his balance.

"Hey…" Her voice, when she spoke, was husky with sleep, but her smile was warm. "You're home…"

"I certainly am. A little later than I thought I'd be…"

"Better late than never." Her hands were sliding up his arms, pulling him towards her even as he was beginning to lean in that direction anyway, and when their lips met, the last conscious thought in Sam's mind was a realisation of just how much he'd missed her.

When they broke away from each other, they'd managed to align themselves so that he was lying on his back on the couch, with her slightly on top of him. Her blouse was now well and truly untucked from her jeans, his hand resting underneath the silky material, warm against the smooth skin of her back. Likewise, his shirt was open to the waist, his white undershirt similarly untucked, her hands resting on his chest. "I missed you," he whispered to her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Me too…" was her reply, and she pressed herself closer to him, nuzzling his neck.

"I would've been home earlier," he told her. "But there was a thing…"

He felt, rather than saw, her frown. "What kind of thing?"

He opened his mouth, ready to tell her about it, but then he realised where he was, and who he was with, and he shook his head. "It'll wait until tomorrow," he answered, wondering if that would be enough for her.

It was. "Fine." She kissed his collarbone, and he felt a shiver run the length of his body as she began working her way up his neck. "Why don't we go to bed…"

Under any other circumstances, he would have been only too delighted to take her up on that offer. However, he had something else to do first. "We could…" he replied. "But I've got a present for you…"

She didn't stop her activities at all, instead intensified them, trying to push his shirt off his shoulders. "And I'm trying to unwrap it…"

He laughed at the quip, meeting her mouth with his, breaking the kiss when he was sitting up again. "I meant that," he said as he extricated himself from her arms.

"So did I." There was a pout on her face when he first looked back to her, but when he turned back, having located the boxes he'd been looking for, she was smiling. "You didn't have to do this you know." When he shrugged, she continued. "Did you remember to get something for Bonnie and Ginger?"

He nodded, recalling her express instructions on Friday morning. "I got Ginger a collector's plate with a moose running through the forests. Bonnie got a hat with a moose on it." He frowned, blinking. "Bonnie pointed out my love for the hotel gift shop."

She giggled, accepting the first box that he gave her. "And I get…" The tape holding the box shut gave her a little trouble, and it took her a moment to open the box, laughing when she pulled out a mug, with the name of the city and what she guessed were some of the tourist spots painted on it. Sitting inside the mug was a miniature stuffed moose. "He's so cute," she declared, pulling the moose out of the mug and studying it from every angle. He was smiling at her reaction, then she turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Quite the theme you have going there."

He shrugged. "There was much moose to be seen. And eaten." He shuddered, recalling his near escape, and how CJ hadn't been quite so lucky. Her expression was a cross between surprise and disgust and he shook his head quickly. "You don't want to go there."

"OK." She was quick to agree.

"That," he told her, getting back on track. "Is your souvenir. This-" He handed her another box. "Is the rest of your birthday present."

She set the mug and moose down on the coffee table, frowning as she took the box from him. This one was much smaller and easier to open, revealing a smaller shiny black rectangular box inside. She glanced at him quickly, obviously having realised that there was only one thing that this type of box could contain. He nodded, telling her without words to go ahead and open it, and she looked back to the box in her hands, pausing for a second before she opened it.

"Sam…" The word was accompanied by a sharp breath, almost a gasp, and her free hand went up to her mouth in shock. Any further words seemed to fail her as she stared down at the necklace in the box, the teardrop shaped emerald pendant winking at her from the diamonds that surrounded it. She turned her head to stare at him, and his heart skipped a beat at the tears that he saw in her eyes.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Sam…" Her voice was barely a whisper. "You did not get this in a hotel gift shop." The last was at normal volume, but still rather shocked, and he chuckled.

"No…but I wanted to get you something special."

"This is too much," she told him, shaking her head. "The dinner…and the box…and now this…it's too much Sam."

He didn't say anything, just took the box from her unresisting hands, lifting the necklace from it carefully. He undid the clasp easily, muttering silent prayers that his hands wouldn't shake too badly, and slipped it around her neck, his entreaties not having fallen on deaf ears. He stood then, taking her hands in his and helping her up too, walking her over to the mirror in the hall. He positioned her in front of it, with him standing behind her, adjusting the pendant so that it hung, as he'd known it would, just under the hollow between her neck and chest. His hands were on her shoulders and she reached up, undoing the top buttons of her blouse so that she could see it better, and his breath once more caught in his throat. "Beautiful," he whispered.

Her fingers brushed across the green stone, and she closed her eyes, turning and slipping her arms around his waist, resting her head against his. "You shouldn't have." It had all the conviction of a final denial, and in response, he returned her embrace, his hands resting just above the small of her back.

"You're worth it," he told her with conviction. She didn't say anything, but he thought that her exhalation of breath might have been a sigh of contentment. He knew that he'd be happy to stand there forever like that, arms around one another, but she pulled her head back so that she could look into his eyes briefly before she pulled away from him altogether, taking her hand in his and leading him into the bedroom.

"Happy birthday Carol," he whispered later, on the brink of falling asleep.

Just as she had on the couch earlier, she snuggled against him, placing a kiss on his collarbone. "Welcome home Sam." 


End file.
